


you'll never be forgiven (but that's not even you)

by ThePackWantstheD



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Pre-Relationship, R plus L equals J
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 17:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6337747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePackWantstheD/pseuds/ThePackWantstheD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They see a story playing out in front of their eyes that they already know the end of.</p><p>Aegon and Arya don't want to hurt their families, but they are not Rhaegar and Lyanna. They will not bare the consequences of actions that were not theirs. </p><p>One way or another, they'll make everyone see that their story is their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you'll never be forgiven (but that's not even you)

**Author's Note:**

> reworking this rn

Arya sat on her bed with her legs folded under her. She was leaned backwards, her palms pressed against the mattress as her fingers curled around the edges, as she watched pale fingers slip under the crack in her window.

When the window had been pushed completely open, a backpack was tossed into her room. It made a soft thunk as it hit the ground.

Arya's eyes darted over to the doorway. She held her breath for a few seconds, listening to make sure the noise hadn't attracted any attention, before swinging her eyes back to the window.

The time she had been looking away was enough for Aegon to pull himself up and swing one leg into the room.

"Be careful," Arya cautioned. "If you hit the floor too hard, my parents are going to hear."

"I know," Aegon said. He ducked under the window, swinging his upper body into the room. "It's not like this is the first time we've done this."

She gave a soft hum.

Not long ago, Aegon would have been welcome to come through the front door. He hadn't always done so, but the option had been there. However, the recent revelations about Jon's real parenthood had placed the Targaryens, Starks, and Martells in a three way argument that no one seemed to be budging on. Everyone was stuck on protecting their own and teeth were being bared in every direction.

Arya blatantly refused to be dragged into a war that had nothing to do with her. She was far closer to Lyanna than she was her own mother, but Lyanna's actions were not hers. The consequences were not Arya's cross to bear.

She would not let her relationship with Aegon, however little of a relationship there was, suffer for it.

He pulled his other leg into the room than set himself down on the floor.

Moonlight came in the window, streaking his silver hair and highlighting his cheekbones.

Arya sucked in a breathe at the sight.

"What?" he questioned as he bent down to grab his bag from the floor.

"You are very pretty," she said.

She knew he hated that description. He'd hated it before and now he hated it even more.

His father was pretty.

His father was also no longer the person Aegon wanted to be.

"You're very pretty," Aegon shot back.

He knew she hated it as much as he did.

Pretty was her mother, her sister, her aunt Lyanna.

Arya Horseface was not pretty, no matter how much likeness she bore to the latter.

"If you're going to be like that, I'm not going to help," Arya said.

He unzipped the bag, beginning to root around in it. He didn't look at her as he said, "Liar."

Arya didn't bother arguing. The words were neither an insult or an accusation - just a simple fact.

After a few moments, he let out a soft noise of triumph. He pulled his hand from the bag and held his hand out towards her to show her the results of his searching. A box of hair-dye and a pair of slim silver scissors.

Arya raised an eyebrow. She wasn't surprised by the hair-dye, that had been part of the plan, but she was curious about the color. "Blue?"

"Like the sky or the sea," he confirmed.

"I thought you were going black?"

It was the farthest color from his natural silver.

Aegon shrugged. "Jon's hair is black."

She gave a soft hum and a nod. Neither of them blamed Jon for his parents actions, especially considering Jon hadn't even known who his father was until a few months ago, but she could understand why Aegon wasn't eager to look like him.

"Blue though? Not something more normal?"

"The idea isn't to be normal," Aegon said. "The idea is to be us."

He was right. They weren't doing this in some fit of teenage rebellion or carelessness.  
  
If he dyed his hair, he wouldn't look so much like his father. If she cut hers, she wouldn't look so much like her aunt. If they did this they could live without the weight of Rhaegar and Lyanna's actions, without people looking at them as though they were reliving the past whenever the two of them were together. They could start exploring the heat that had been hanging between them before this whole thing without either of their families flinching whenever they saw them together.

"Which bathroom do you wanna do this in?" Aegon asked.

"We're gonna have to use Bran and Rickon's to put the dye in," she informed. She pushed herself up to her feet. "I've never done this before and Sansa will notice if we spill any in mine. We'll have to come back over here for you to shower, though. If my mom wakes up and notices the boys shower running, she's going to have questions since neither of them are here."

"Alright, alright." He pressed his lips together as he raised the box to his eyes. His gaze flicked across the back, reading over the instructions quickly. As he did, he asked, "You're sure you can do this right?"

"No," she answered, honest. He lowered the box enough that he was peering at her over the top. When their gazes met, she gave a small shrug. "It's a little too late to stop now, though, isn't it?"

His mouth stretched in a grin. It was the type of smile he reserved for her, dangerous affection in his bared teeth and sharply turned lips. It made her heart flutter in her chest, not with fear but with longing. Desire for this boy who understood her so well, whose feelings of adventure and longing for experiences matched her own.

"If I was going to back out," he said, "I'd have done it before I spent fifteen dollars on hairdye."


End file.
